


A Lesson In Honor

by Thanatopsiturvy



Series: The 36 Lessons of Teldryn Sero: Nerevarine [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Assassination Plot(s), Dubious Morality, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Learning To Murder Properly, M/M, Morag Tong, Morrowind Main Quest, Nerevarine!Teldryn, Original Character(s), Trauma Sharing, sad elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24268192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thanatopsiturvy/pseuds/Thanatopsiturvy
Summary: Being a part of the Morag Tong has been more difficult than Teldryn anticipated.And apparently he isn't murdering peoplegoodenough for their tastes.With his dedication to the guild in question, Teldryn is given orders to shadow one of the higher-ranking members as he executes his writ. He'll then shadow Teldryn in turn.Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if the person he was supposed to be learning from hadn't already decided to hate him.
Relationships: Male Nerevarine (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The 36 Lessons of Teldryn Sero: Nerevarine [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741183
Comments: 48
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [banjotea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/banjotea/gifts).



> Thanks so much [banjotea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/banjotea) for letting me borrow Rels and for being the driving force behind my new-found Morrowind addiction. uwu I'll never forgive you.

It became very apparent very quickly that Teldryn had fucked up. 

The paralysis spell hit like a punch to the gut, locking his limbs in place and gluing him to the spot. Terror flooded his body as the Breton, his _target_ , drew her dagger. 

Gwenyfir Teague. His third writ for the Morag Tong. Teldryn had vaguely wondered what she’d done to piss someone off enough to send an assassin after her. He caught her heading for the Mages Guild in the plaza of the Foreign Quarter. She was slender, short. Looked easy enough. Teldryn had underestimated her. Before that point, his two other writs had been Dunmer. They hadn’t been easy, but hadn’t been particularly challenging either — he’d known what to expect from them.

Now he stood frozen in cold terror as she lunged towards him, powerless to stop her dagger from sliding through the thick leather of his armor like butter and into his guts. He screamed through the spell, breaking free through sheer willpower to headbutt her. She staggered backwards with a cry, clutching her head.

Teldryn wrenched the dagger from his side. Switching the grip in his hand, he immediately lurched forward and plunged both his dagger and her own into the woman’s stomach, angling the blades upwards beneath her ribs. It wasn’t honorable, it was barely effective, but it was _satisfying._ Gwenyfir grasped at his shoulders, eyes wide as blood bubbled into her mouth, dribbling past her lips. _Doesn’t feel too good, does it, bitch?_ Teldryn bared his teeth behind the mask, twisting the daggers deeper. He noticed too late the pulsing light growing in her palms where they rested against his shoulders. 

Pain unlike any Teldryn had ever experienced ripped through his body like a lightning strike, twisting and shredding the very threads of his being in cacophonous agony until his vision went white.

Teldryn regained consciousness on his back with a sword at his throat. 

“Don’t move, scum!” An Ordinator. 

“I…” Teldryn sucked in a wet breath that tasted of iron. Oblivion, he was tired. “I have a writ,” he managed to croak out, reaching into his front pocket to pull out the small scroll. The Ordinator snatched it from his shaking hand, unfurled it, and read. His expressionless mask snapped back to look Teldryn up and down where he continued to lay prone on the floor. 

“Your paperwork is in order.” He gave Teldryn another cold once-over. “Move along.” 

“Sure thing,” Teldryn groaned, making absolutely no move to get up. He stared at the ceiling for a moment longer, wondering if he was going to die there, surrounded by people who were practically stepping over him to go about their day.

Hands still shaking, he reached beneath his scarf and yanked free the ring he wore on a chain around his neck — the one Huleeya had given him. He tugged off one glove and carefully slid it onto his finger. With a slight push of magicka, he activated the enchantment. He grimaced as the wound in his side began to seal shut, gritted his teeth through the disturbing sensation of his organs knitting themselves back together. After he felt more certain that he wasn’t going to bleed out on the floor of the Foreign Quarter plaza, he pushed to his feet. Sparing one final glance at Gwenyfir’s cooling corpse, Teldryn wearily began to make his way back to the Arena Canton, dreading the idea of having to look any of his guildmates in the eye. 

\---

“Unacceptable.” 

Teldryn winced. The word was spoken quietly, calmly, but it cut deeper than Gwenyfir’s dagger. He kept his eyes to the ground, his hands clasped at his low back. 

“As a member of the Morag Tong, you are an ambassador. Your conduct is not just a reflection of your own principles and beliefs, but ours as well. Your most recent execution has brought shame upon the Vivec City guild.” 

“I apologize, Grandmaster.” 

“Look at me when you speak to me, Associate.” 

Teldryn reluctantly looked up. Eno Hlaalu’s expression was remarkably cool. He held Teldryn’s gaze for a long moment, unblinking. It was chilling. Teldryn swallowed. 

“Further disciplinary action will not be taken. A careless kill is still a kill. However, your dedication is in question. Before you are to execute your next writ, you are to shadow one of our senior members. Then he will shadow you in return.”

 _Great_ , Teldryn thought. _Treated like a child._

“You are to report to Thinker Llethri first thing in the morning.” Eno extended his hand, presenting Teldryn with the small roll of paper. “This is your writ. Farvyn Gavos. He was last seen in Maar Gan. Slay him honorably.” 

“Thank you, Grandmaster.” 

Teldryn gave a quick bow before retreating. He did his best not to stomp away and nearly succeeded. _Your dedication is in question._ He’d almost fucking _died_ executing that writ — successfully! — and instead of sympathy, he was treated like a disobedient school child. His side still ached where the Breton had stabbed him and his muscles were sore in ways he’d never experienced prior. Muscles he didn’t even know he _had_ were sore.

He collapsed onto one of the ratty beds, not even bothering to take his boots off. Teldryn heard someone ascend the stairs and begin to shuffle into their own bed, but he didn’t bother to look. He wasn’t sure if he’d see sympathy or contempt. 

Surely they’d all fucked up at least once before. Or maybe he was defective — not cut out to be the stoic assassin type. What even _was_ killing someone honorably? It seemed oxymoronic. You either killed someone or you spared them. Teldryn’s thoughts continued to churn until he was feeling sorry for himself and thoroughly victimized. He ended up finding only light sleep, waking the next morning with a pounding headache and in a terrible mood. He’d slept in his boots.

After changing into fresh clothes and donning his armor, Teldryn packed the last of his belongings into his satchel before trudging down the stairs. _Thinker Llethri._ Teldryn wasn’t quite sure which one he was; he hadn’t bothered to commit any names to memory. He didn’t have to guess much longer. As soon as he entered the main common area, a mer he didn’t recognize glanced up from his seat at the table and immediately got to his feet.

 _Well, at least he’ll be nice to look at,_ Teldryn thought.  
  
Llethri had broad shoulders and sharp cheekbones. His ebony black hair hung just past his chin, framing his face, half of it pulled into a small tuft at the back of his head. He straightened his posture as Teldryn approached — they were approximately the same height, though Llethri was a bit more filled-out. Teldryn didn’t let it bother him. 

“You must be Thinker Llethri,” Teldryn began with a slight smirk. “Teldryn Sero.” He extended his hand. 

Llethri just stared at it, then gave Teldryn an incredulous look. He had a long, thin scar that cut through his upper lip, trailing all the way across his right cheek and ending under his eye. It made every expression even more severe. 

Teldryn quickly dropped his hand to his side before bending into a slight bow, mentally cursing. Bad habits he’d picked up in Cyrodiil. “Ready when you are, serjo.” 

“We’ll leave immediately then.” Llethri turned and strode towards the exit with a soldierly posture. Teldryn sighed, adjusted the strap of his satchel, and followed him.

  
  


The majority of their ride to Balmora was silent, interrupted occasionally by the silt strider’s melancholic wail. Llethri barely paid Teldryn any mind outside of occasional glances. If Teldryn hadn’t known any better, he would have thought that he’d personally murdered one of the mer’s friends. He sighed loudly, sinking further down into his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. Tipping his chin forward, Teldryn closed his eyes. He could at least use the time to get some extra rest. 

“Associate.” 

Teldryn snapped awake, unable to recall dozing off. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Llethri was already standing on the platform, staring down at him with ill-concealed annoyance. Teldryn hoisted himself out of the strider with a grunt and blearily stumbled down the stairs after his guildmate. The sun was sinking slowly to the west of them, twilight rolling in at a steady pace. 

“So who’s your target?” Teldryn asked as they made their way through the city: an attempt to break the silence between them. 

“My _writ_ is for a mer by the name of Odral Dreth,” Llethri corrected pointedly. “I’ll begin by asking after him. Occasionally, the patron who commissioned the writ will give more details, but this time I was only told the name of the city.” 

_All right, at least he’s speaking to me._ Teldryn chewed the inside of his cheek. Thus far all of his own writs had been in Vivec and easy to locate. The writ for Farvyn Gavos, which was tucked securely in his front pocket, was the first in another city, and the first without instruction as to where the mer might be or what he looked like. “So what happens when you can’t find him?”

“We always find our writs.” 

Teldryn let out a short exhale. “What I _meant_ was, what happens if you have _trouble_ finding him?” 

“You continue to ask around.” Llethri sighed. “People will flee if they know the Morag Tong is involved. You want to be discreet. If they do flee, you could be trailing the targ–” He cleared his throat. “The _assignment_ for weeks.”

“Dedication.” Teldryn chuckled. 

“Yes,” Llethri agreed, shooting Teldryn a cold glare before devolving into silence once again.

Teldryn stood outside of the Balmora bookseller while Llethri was asking after his… _writ._ He eyed the door to the Fighter’s Guild, thankful for his newly acquired mask. Balmora was teeming with people who might recognize his face. The last thing he wanted was to gain an even more notorious reputation than he already had. The door opened behind him. 

“Eight Plates,” Llethri said, striding past Teldryn and walking further into town. “I got a brief description, but I have to be sure.” 

“How’d you get a description?” Teldryn was mildly impressed. 

“I said I’m a courier.” 

“A well-armored, muscular courier.” 

Llethri’s lip twitched minutely before he cleared his throat and scowled a little harder than necessary. “We’re going to go in and order a drink.”

“On the job?”

“It’s _part_ of the job.” 

Teldryn huffed with a smirk. “All right, but you’re buying.”

The Eight Plates was almost empty save for an already-intoxicated wood elf weaving towards the exit, some bloke in full bonemold armor, and a thin, well-dressed Dunmer who sat hunched over the bar. Llethri went immediately to the bar and sat down. 

“A bottle of flin, if you will. And two glasses.”

Teldryn’s eyebrows shot upward as he sat down next to him. “Spare no expense, eh serjo?” 

Llethri’s jaw tightened, then he drew his lips back in a tight smile, distorting the scar across his cheek. “For a proper celebration? Never. In fact,” he turned back to the bartender, “I’d like to buy a round for the bar.”

This earned Llethri a grand smile. “Very generous of you, stranger,” she said. “What’s the occasion?”

Llethri put a hand on Teldryn’s shoulder. “My friend here just got engaged.” 

Teldryn nearly bit his tongue. He coughed and turned it into a laugh. “Yep.” He took the cup of flin from the woman, pulling down the scarf that covered his mouth to offer a smile. “The noose tightens for me.” 

To his surprise, Llethri laughed. It was a pleasant sound — rich and full. Teldryn knew it was an act, but it still managed to put him at ease, some of the tension draining from his body. It was almost enough to forget that they were there to kill a man. _Almost._

“Congratulations,” the man down the bar mumbled. His expression was sour, eyes glued to the ring he held in his hand, turning it over in his palm. 

“Much appreciated,” Teldryn replied with another smile, looking to Llethri. He was staring at the man, possibly for a moment too long, before knocking back his cup of flin faster than Teldryn had expected and promptly pouring himself a second glass.

They spoke lightly for about ten or so minutes as Teldryn proceeded to make up a story about whatever woman he was supposedly engaged to. Llethri acted interested and even laughed at some of his bad jokes. Teldryn was almost sad that it was fake. The bartender seemed interested as well, though Teldryn guessed it was more of an interest in their coin than their conversation. 

“Ah, she’s a gem, my sweet Seryne. A mean right hook on her, too.” 

The man down the bar grumbled something under his breath and the bartender gave him a wicked glare. 

“Keep your sour opinions to yourself, Odral. Either that, or find a different establishment to sulk in.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Llethri cut in, getting to his feet. “We actually have to be heading out now.” He placed an extra drake on the counter. “Thanks for the great service.” 

She scooped the money into her hand with a razor sharp smile. “You boys are welcome back here any time.” 

Teldryn heard her say something to Odral about ‘running away good customers’ as they left. Once they were out the door, Llethri immediately jogged up the stairs to the manor district. 

“Do you usually sling that much money around?” 

“Word of advice, Outlander.” Llethri ducked behind a low wall, taking measurement of his sightline to the door of the Eight Plates. “In a Hlaalu town, tread lightly and carry a fat purse.”

“Don’t call me that.” 

Llethri gave Teldryn a down-sweeping look. “Think about picking a fake name for yourself, too.” His cold, detached demeanor was back, any feigned camaraderie they’d shared extinguished faster than a candle in an ash storm. With a sigh, Teldryn moved out of sight, sitting down with a petulant huff against the adjoining building. Llethri kept his eyes glued on the door. They lapsed into a long silence. The sun was almost completely gone, the world bathed in the cool blue of twilight, transforming the surrounding shadows into inky voids. Fewer citizens roamed the streets, most having already turned in for the evening. They were practically invisible under the cover of darkness. 

“What do you think about, Associate, before you kill?” 

The question caught Teldryn completely off-guard. He sat up a little straighter, shaking out of his daydreams. “Think about?”

Llethri didn’t look at him, his eyes still focused on the Eight Plates. 

“Well…” Teldryn scratched the scruff on his chin. “I think about surviving. Getting through it; seeing the next sunrise. That’s how it’s always been, even before I was killing for money.” 

“Killing for money…” Llethri repeated under his breath with a soft laugh. He shook his head, never once dropping his gaze.

Sudden movement at the door had Llethri rocking onto the balls of his feet. Odral Dreth stepped out into the thoroughfare and began walking in their direction. Teldryn held his breath, not daring to move as Llethri unsheathed his dagger, his body tense, waiting. He reminded Teldryn of the direwolves that roamed the hills outside of the Imperial City: silent, focused, always stillest before a kill. Dreth was morosely making his way up the stairs, eyes downcast. 

Once he’d made it to the top of the stairs, Llethri straightened up and stepped out of the shadows, dagger at his side.

Dreth startled and looked up. “You… you were at the bar.” 

“Odral Dreth, you have been marked for honorable execution by the Morag Tong.” 

Dreth’s face blanched. “No… no, no. By the Three, please.” He took a stumbling step backwards. “Please have mercy.” Teldryn saw him scrabble for the dagger at his hip. 

Without another word, Llethri lunged forward and plunged his dagger into the mer’s stomach. Dreth let out a screech, taking a wild slash with his own dagger. Effortlessly, Llethri ducked beneath the swing as he wrenched his blade free. He stepped behind Dreth, yanked his head against his shoulder, and swiped the dagger across his throat. It was so practiced, so precise. It sent a cold chill down Teldryn’s spine. Blood gushed from the wound, splattering wetly against the stone as Dreth gurgled. Llethri stepped backwards and let him drop to the ground. He stood in silence for a long moment, gaze averted, until Dreth stopped twitching. Teldryn slowly emerged from his hiding spot. 

“That was impressive,” Teldryn offered with a grin as he trotted over. “And not a drop of blood on you.” 

Llethri ignored him, turning on his heel and marching back down the stairs. 

“Where are you going?” 

“To report my writ,” he barked over his shoulder.

Teldryn followed after him, stepping carefully around the small rivulets of blood trickling away from Dreth’s body. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to [jottingprosaist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_potter/pseuds/jottingprosaist) for the amazing beta!! (Dreams do come true, y'all).
> 
> Welcome back to Angst and Pain.

They spent the night in Balmora. In the Eight Plates. Llethri didn’t seem thrilled, but the bartender was _very_ pleased to see them again. 

“Welcome back, muthsera,” she greeted, her smile faltering when Rels dropped his coin on the counter and grumbled out his monosyllabic requests. 

Teldryn was expected to pay for his own room and his own booze, though there was no way to keep up with Llethri. He put away an entire bottle of greef by himself, staring blankly at the far wall and barely speaking a word. The bartender gave them one last nervous look and left them alone. Teldryn didn’t blame her — they were a far cry from the friends they’d appeared to be a few hours prior. Teldryn looked down into his cup, swirling the sujamma around, thinking over the events he’d just witnessed.

“What do _you_ think about, serjo?” he finally asked. 

“Thinker,” Llethri snapped. 

“What?” 

“You should address me as Thinker.” 

Teldryn swallowed, running his tongue across his teeth in annoyance. “What do you think about, _Thinker?”_ he corrected with a sneer. 

“What are you talking about, _Associate?”_

Teldryn wanted to punch him. He laughed instead, tightening his grip on his cup. “Before you kill.” He knocked back the last of the sujamma with a hiss. “What do you think about?”

Llethri’s expression dropped. He didn’t answer for a long moment, his eyes glazing over. Finally, he turned to look Teldryn in the eye. “I don’t think.” 

Teldryn sputtered, then let out a grunt. “That’s a fucking cop-out of an answer.” 

“What I mean,” Llethri continued, “is that I don’t think about what I’m going to do. I can’t think about it.” Another long pause followed, during which Llethri refilled his cup and took a more tentative sip. “I think about it after it’s over.” 

“Is that why you’re sucking down greef like there’s no tomorrow?” Wrong thing to say. Llethri whirled on him, rage burning hot behind his eyes. Teldryn shrank away. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he tried to amend. “We all have to cope somehow.”

His backtracking didn’t work. Llethri pushed to his feet and corked the bottle of greef. “We leave at dawn. Get some sleep.” And with that Teldryn was left alone. He slumped forward, letting his head rest against the bar. 

“What happened with your friend? You two seemed to be fine earlier.” 

Teldryn looked up. The bartender was looking at him expectantly. She was well-dressed, her shoulders straight and drawn back — proud — completely unaware that his ‘friend’ had just killed the man she’d been serving less than an hour ago. She’d called him by his first name. He was probably a regular. 

“Oh, you know how it goes.” Teldryn tried to offer a thin smile. “On top of the world one moment, bottom of the bottle the next.” 

“Ah…” She gave him a sympathetic look tinged with pity. “Well, congratulations on your engagement, again.” 

“Thanks.” Teldryn felt numb. He paid for his drink and trudged off to his room. He wasn’t tired so much as weary, which was a good enough reason to force himself to sleep. He pulled off his boots and disrobed to his smalls, taking a moment to do some basic stretches before extinguishing the lone candle and climbing into bed. He tried not to think about Caius, who was less than a ten minute walk from where he currently lay. He tried not to think about all the notes he was supposed to deliver to him — notes that currently lay locked away in his trunk at the Fighter’s Guild. He tried not to think about how in-over-his-head he felt. Most of all, he tried not to think about Llethri: a stranger who, for all intents and purposes, seemed to hate him for reasons that were still unclear. 

Teldryn took a deep breath and turned onto his side to face the wall. Tomorrow, if everything went well, he’d be taking a mer’s life. Seeing the way it impacted Llethri made Teldryn feel strange. Broken. Was he supposed to be that torn up over killing? It seemed like an exhausting way to live. He sighed again, lifting his head to punch the pillow into a better shape before settling back down. His last waking thoughts were wondering how Llethri got that scar on his face. 

\--

Teldryn snapped awake in a cold sweat. He was in his room, by himself, surrounded by darkness. Another dream. _Nightmare_ . They were getting more vivid. More _frequent_. He sat up and scrubbed a hand across his eyes, over his jaw. There was no telling what time it was but he didn’t feel like trying to get any more sleep. Silently, he dressed and packed his bag before stepping out of his room. 

The bar was empty, the cool light of morning seeping through the high, round windows; dawn was fast approaching. Llethri’s door was still closed, so Teldryn decided to go for a short walk. He pulled his scarf up over his face as he exited the Eight Plates and veered immediately to the left to make his way down towards the river. He walked leisurely along the water’s edge, passing guards as they extinguished their torches, traded off night shifts for morning ones. The sky was beginning to pinken and the air was heavy with humidity, a pleasantly cool fog rolling off the water. Teldryn spent a few more minutes wandering back and forth across the bridges, trying to shake the last remnants of his dream from his mind, before he headed back to the Eight Plates. 

Llethri’s door was still closed when he returned, silence behind it. Teldryn raised his hand to knock, hesitated, talked himself out of it, then knocked anyway. There was the sound of soft shuffling, a thump, a muttered curse, and the door swung open. 

Llethri was shirtless, his hair mussed around his face, half of it sticking up at an odd angle. Dark circles beneath his eyes and a slight unsteadiness to his gaze cued Teldryn in enough to know he was looking at a mer who was deeply hungover. “What?” He furrowed his brow even more. 

Teldryn just stared, his gaze accidentally sweeping downward before snapping back up. “It’s a little past dawn.” 

_“N’chow…”_ The door slammed in Teldryn’s face, followed by the sound of rustling. Teldryn walked back down the hall to the bar and took a seat at the closest table. He drummed his fingers against the wood, trying and failing not to think about how bloody attractive Llethri was. It was a damn crime he was such a prick… Moments later, the minutely-less-disheveled mer was at his side, tightening the straps of his pack. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he slid the bag over his shoulder. 

“Not a problem.” Teldryn offered a small smile. “I got to go on a nice morning walk.” 

Llethri stared at him for a moment longer, some of the tension easing from his face. “Oh.” He shifted his pack. “Sounds nice.” 

They lapsed into a brief, awkward silence until Llethri jerked his chin towards the exit. “We should get going.” 

  
  


The silt strider to Ald-ruhn would take approximately four hours. Teldryn was determined to make the best of it. He gave Llethri the first hour to recover, watching him out of the corner of his eye as he nursed his waterskin and breathed steadily through his nose every time the strider lurched and dipped. After what seemed to be an appropriate amount of time, Teldryn spoke up: 

  
“I wanted to ask you about your technique.” 

Llethri turned to him, eyes narrowing. “Technique?” 

“Yeah.” Teldryn relaxed, sank a little lower into his seat. “Your movements were so practiced. It seemed so efficient.” He cocked his head. “I was hoping you might share some tips.” 

“Right…” Llethri took another long sip from his waterskin, seemed to pull together his thoughts. “My approach usually depends on what race my target is.”

“You mean your _writ_?” Teldryn needled, even as he wondered if it was too soon to joke. 

Llethri fixed him with a flat glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly with amusement. “Fair,” he ceded with a small huff. “Anyway…” He pulled open the top of his bag, pulling out two cloth-wrapped bundles. “I usually carry three daggers with me at all times: silver, ebony, and orcish.” He unwrapped one of the bundles to reveal a jagged, orcish blade, polished to perfection.

“I love it when a man is prepared,” Teldryn ribbed with a lecherous grin. 

Llethri snapped to look at him, eyes wide. A subtle flush crept across his cheeks and darkened the tips of his ears. “That’s inappropriate,” he chastised. 

“It’s just a joke…”

“Do you want tips or not?”

“I do,” Teldryn insisted, sitting back in his seat and suppressing a sigh. “Please. Keep going. Sorry I interrupted.” 

Llethri took a minute to compose himself before continuing. “If your target is an orc or a Nord, then you want to use something jagged since their skin is so thick.”  
  
Teldryn listened intently as he explained a slew of techniques, everything from how best to immobilize the target and keeping yourself clean, to making sure they died as quickly as possible. It was all pretty morbid, and a lot of it consisted of things Teldryn had never really considered before. As an added benefit, it seemed to put Llethri in a better mood. Every time Teldryn asked a question and Llethri had a quick answer, his eyes would light up, the creases in his forehead becoming softer. He expertly twirled one of the daggers in his hand, showing Teldryn the different grips, even going so far as to praise Teldryn when he demonstrated something correctly. Overall, it was a pleasant use of their time, and Teldryn was beginning to realize that he didn’t know the first damn thing about effectively killing someone. 

“I’ve just been acting on instinct this entire time,” Teldryn admitted. 

“Instinct is still important.” Llethri was re-wrapping his daggers, securing them in his pack. “It’s what keeps you alive. But that’s just a small fraction of the job. Stay alive, but above all else, do your duty. We’re not just _killing_ _people for money_. The Morag Tong is a necessary part of Dunmer society. We prevent wars. Maintain the balance.” He gave Teldryn a stern look. “These are the principles you need to remember when you are assigned a writ.” 

Teldryn touched the front pocket of his shirt, feeling the curving outline of the rolled writ. “Right.” 

“And if your writ bests you,” Llethri continued, averting his eyes, “and you are slain while trying to execute your target, then that is also part of the custom. That is their right.” 

Teldryn swallowed, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping back against his seat. “It’s a thankless job.” 

“It has its rewards,” Llethri argued with a slight smirk. “And I don’t mean the money.”

“Of course.” Teldryn gestured around them. “Just look at all the traveling you get to do!”

To his surprise, Llethri actually laughed. It wasn’t the fake laugh from the bar the night before — it was low and quiet, meant just for him to hear. The skin around Llethri’s eyes folded into soft crinkles and Teldryn couldn’t help but stare. He made a small goal to get Llethri to laugh more often. 

The strider lurched to a halt and Llethri’s smile dropped. The caravanner pulled himself out of the seat, hopping onto the platform and unfurling the small wooden step ladder. “Ald-ruhn,” he said unnecessarily. 

“We actually need to go to Maar Gan,” Llethri said. 

“I need to give Bidsi a break. She should be ready to go again in about an hour.”

 _Bidsi?_ Teldryn thought, chuckling to himself. He patted Llethri on the knee as he moved to stand. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink while we wait. I owe you one.” 

Llethri said nothing, remaining in his seat for a moment longer before slowly rising as if his joints were rusty hinges. They made their way down the long, sloping ramp and Teldryn led the way up into town. He chattered idly, filling the silence with more ease than he had the day before.

“I’ve made a few trips up here in the past couple of months — Fighter’s Guild business, mostly. Got stuck here for a couple of days waiting for an ash storm to pass. I was bored out of my mind...”

Llethri said nothing, staring resolutely ahead of them. A guard did a double take as they passed, stopping to watch them go. 

“Are you alright?” Teldryn finally asked as they made their way towards the Ald Skar Inn. 

“Fine,” came the quick response. An obvious lie.

“Come on, don’t clam up on me now,” Teldryn joked, bumping their shoulders together. Llethri didn’t respond.

They pushed into the Inn and Llethri immediately ducked his head as he climbed the stairs, quietly making his way to one of the more secluded tables and sitting down. Teldryn noticed, then, that every single person in the establishment was looking at them. To be more exact, they were looking at Llethri. 

“Thinker?” Teldryn asked, nervousness prickling along the back of his neck, backing away as a severe looking Dunmer woman approached them. 

“You have a lot of nerve, _traitor_.” She spoke directly to Llethri, who kept his eyes glued to the table, hands folded against the wood. Teldryn’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, looking between the two of them. 

“We’re simply waiting for the strider to rest, Fathusa,” Llethri answered, his voice low. “I’m not here for long.” 

“You should have stayed on the strider,” she spat. 

“Thinker?” Teldryn said again, stepping to stand in between the woman and Llethri.

Her eyes darted to Teldryn. “I assume you’re his little protege.” She looked him up and down. “Rels can teach you plenty about cowardice and treachery.” 

“Leave them be, Fathusa.” An Argonian had stepped up beside her, making calming motions with his hands. “He said they wouldn’t be here long. Don’t start a fight in Boderi’s inn.” 

“This is House Redoran business, Skeetul. Hold your tongue.” She turned back to Llethri with a sneer. “Not that you’d fight me, would you Rels?” 

Llethri remained silent. 

“Nothing to say for yourself?” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Teldryn barked, moving to directly block her line of sight. “Leave him alone. Let us just wait in peace for the damn silt strider to catch its breath or have a drink or whatever the fuck it is those things need.” 

“Oh, he hasn’t told you _anything_ about himself, has he?” She let out a raspy laugh, her voice worn away from years of breathing ash. “You wouldn’t be defending him otherwise.”

“I can’t say I care what he’s done or who he’s been,” Teldryn retorted with a shrug. “But you should listen to your Argonian friend, because I _will_ kick your arse if you keep the harrassment up.” 

“Oh, a threat. How cute.”

“Associate.” Llethri had gotten to his feet. “Remember your honor. Remember who you represent.” 

“Honor?” The woman let out another hoarse laugh. “Oh that is _rich._ ” 

Llethri grabbed Teldryn by the elbow, pulling him back down the stairs and towards the door.

“Run away, Rels!” The woman called after them. “It’s what you’re best at!” 

Once they were out of the Inn, Llethri made a direct line for the edge of town. Teldryn trotted after him with a scowl. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

No response. 

“I would have never suggested we go in there if I knew _that_ would happen.” 

Llethri kept walking towards the main gate, ignoring the guard that looked him up and down as he passed.

“Thinker!” Teldryn tried again. No response. “Llethri!” They passed through the archway. Teldryn growled in frustration. One final attempt: _“Rels!”_

Llethri whirled on him, curling his fists into the front of Teldryn’s shirt. He pushed him backwards, slamming him against the outer wall. Teldryn yelped as his head cracked painfully against the stone. Llethri said nothing, breathing heavily through his nose, his face inches away from Teldryn’s. 

Slowly, Teldryn put his hands up. “It’s okay.” He moved them to rest against Llethri’s wrists, kept his voice low. “It’s all right.”

Llethri let go and shoved away, storming off towards the main road. Teldryn let himself slide down the wall until he was sitting, legs outstretched in the dust and ash. He watched Llethri’s figure grow smaller in the distance until he disappeared completely around a bend in the road. Teldryn cursed under his breath, letting his head fall back against the wall and closing his eyes. 

“Best just let him go.” A guard was leaning in the archway. “Don’t know how you got mixed up with him, but he’s a traitor to House Redoran. Not someone you want to be seen with around here. If you care about your reputation, that is.”

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” Teldryn snapped, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. 

The guard shrugged and pushed off the wall, straightened his posture. “The ash storm will probably get him.” 

Teldryn looked up. The sky had darkened to a muddy brown; gusts of wind were beginning to whistle between the buildings and through the archways.

“Fuck.” He took off at a sprint in Llethri’s direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, a cliffy.
> 
> ADDITIONALLY: Enjoy this drawing by banjotea of a [very hungover Rels](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/693626992154640486/777773206295150622/unknown.png). POV you're Teldryn, it's a little past sunrise, and you're waking his shirtless ass up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again, jottingprosaist, for being the most amazing beta. <3

The winds picked up immediately, sweeping in from the east with startling speed, nipping at his heels. As the air turned thick and red, the landscape began to disappear in a swirling haze of ash. Teldryn called out Llethri’s name and got a nasty mouthful of ash before covering his mouth and nose with his scarf, shielding his eyes. He turned to look over his shoulder to see Ald-ruhn completely gone, obscured by the dust. He looked forward again, unsure if he was still on the main road. Debris pelted his exposed skin, biting at his flesh, and he coughed before calling out again. He could barely keep his eyes open; the ash was too thick. 

A hand grabbed his elbow and Teldryn’s immediate instinct was to jerk away. 

“Come on!” Llethri yelled over the howling wind. 

Teldryn let himself be led, barely able to see through the slits in his fingers. One foot in front of the other. He reached out blindly and managed to grab hold of Llethri’s upper arm, if only to steady himself. He squinted through the haze, trying to make out where they were going. For a moment he panicked, imagining wandering the ash wastes for hours until they were both blinded or suffocated. Then, out of nowhere, a door appeared in the hillside — a mine or a cave of some kind — and Teldryn found himself being unceremoniously shoved inside. Llethri threw his body against the door to close it behind them, both of them coughing and rubbing at their eyes. Teldryn spat onto the ground several times, trying to get the taste of ash out of his mouth. 

“Are you all right?” Llethri asked, shaking out his scarf. 

“Still a little blinded.” Teldryn managed to laugh through his next cough. “But otherwise fine.” 

The small cavern had a low roof. A single lantern flickered by the door, causing their shadows to jump and dance along the wall. There was light further down the tunnel and Teldryn prayed they wouldn’t run into trouble trying to wait out a damn storm. They continued to dust themselves off and ruffle ash from their clothes and hair. Teldryn could feel grime still stuck in less savory places and grimaced. He slung his pack from his shoulders, dusted off the top, and pulled out his waterskin. He took a long drink before handing it to Llethri, who accepted it with a soft thanks. The wind rattled the door, gusting ash beneath the crack, and they moved a little further away from the entrance. 

Teldryn tugged off his gloves and dropped them by his pack. He pooled a bit of water into his palm and washed his face, patting dry with a clean shirt and feeling marginally better. Llethri did the same, and Teldryn’s eyes lingered on something he hadn’t noticed before: a distinct scar on the back of Llethri’s right hand, the shape of a beetle.  _ A brand. _

Llethri caught him looking and held his hand up to the light with a thin, mirthless smile. “Might as well see it clearly.” 

Teldryn said nothing, just watched as Llethri roughly washed his face, his dark hair hiding his expression like a curtain. What could he even say? He barely knew the guy. And, up until this afternoon, he’d been some of the most unpleasant company Teldryn had been forced to endure. Yet here they were, trapped in a cave in the middle of an ash storm, and one by one, some of the disjointed pieces behind Llethri’s shitty attitude were falling into place — a more complete picture beginning to emerge.

Wordlessly, Teldryn stepped towards him and yanked back his own sleeve, holding his arm to the light. Llethri stared at him in confusion, then looked down at the sequence of Cyrodilic numbers tattooed on the back of his wrist, uncertainty still etched across his face.

“It’s how they keep track of inmates in Imperial prisons,” Teldryn explained, before pulling his sleeve back down. “My point being, we all have our pasts.” He strode to the opposite side of the tunnel and sat down with a grunt. He gestured to Llethri’s hand. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t care what you did to get that.” He started digging around in his pack to look for something to eat. 

Llethri slowly slid down the wall opposite him, his eyes unfocused, expression blank. A long moment of silence passed between them. Teldryn dug a bit of wrapped scrib jerky from one of his pockets and tossed it over. Llethri caught it without really looking, murmuring a soft thanks. They ate in silence, the wind still howling and shaking the door. 

“Why’d you want to join?” Llethri said, his voice hoarse. He coughed. “The Morag Tong. Why’d you join?”

Teldryn finished chewing his scrib jerky and swallowed. He shrugged. “I’ve actually been trying to figure that out for the past two weeks.” 

Llethri looked like he wanted to say something. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and averted his eyes. The small action made him look very boyish. Teldryn couldn’t help but chuckle and imagine what stern Thinker Llethri must have looked like as a young child. 

“I think in a way I just wanted to prove that I could.” Teldryn raised his hands in anticipation. “I know, a shitty reason. Please don’t lecture me.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” 

“You had a  _ look _ .”    
  
“I didn’t have a  _ look!” _

Teldryn laughed, letting his head fall back against the wall. He stared up at the rough ceiling of the cavern, where roots and tubers poked through the compact earth. “I’m starting to realize just how much of a shitty reason it was. I feel completely out of my depth. I thought this would help me feel a little more in control of my life — give me some purpose. Because it was  _ my _ choice. Not an order from some higher up telling me to join a guild, get some experience under my belt; fetch this, fetch that, talk to this person, here’s two-hundred drakes, there’s a good lad…” 

“You’ve lost me,” Llethri cut in. 

“Sorry.” Teldryn let out a long sigh before looking up. “So why did you join?” 

Llethri chewed on his lip some more, drawing patterns in the dirt. “I didn’t,” he said after a beat. “I was inducted.” 

“They induct people?” 

Llethri nodded. “Huleeya brought me in.” 

Heat crept up Teldryn’s neck as the very sudden, very vivid image popped into his head of Llethri bent over, taking Huleeya’s cock up his ass. He shifted with a cough, rubbing his eyes as if trying to physically remove the mental image from his head. “Nice guy.” 

Llethri hummed in response, seemingly oblivious to Teldryn’s reaction. “It was right after I was expelled from House Redoran. They took me in when I had nowhere else to go.” He shrugged and erased the patterns he’d drawn with a swipe of his hand. “I’m thankful.” 

“You don’t seem to  _ like _ killing, though,” Teldryn pointed out. “You’re good at it, for sure. But it seemed… difficult for you. Correct me if I’m wrong.” 

“You’re not.” Llethri sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest. The door rattled loudly from a gust of wind. “But I’m serving a greater purpose. Like you said. And it’s important. Vital, even. To Morrowind.” 

“Good old Morrowind. Of course,” Teldryn grumbled. “It’s been great coming home. Where everyone calls me an  _ n’wah.” _ He ran a hand across his face in frustration. “Am I not  _ grey _ enough for their liking? Do I need to go roll around in the ash?”

“Well, you act like a westerner.”

Teldryn looked up, quirking a brow. “I do?”

Llethri let out a little laugh of disbelief. “Completely. You even talk like one.”

“Oh…” Teldryn hadn’t realized he’d changed that much. He scratched at his chin, making a thoughtful noise. They devolved into a short silence. 

“I’m sorry, though,” Llethri said after another moment. “I’ve been… difficult. You’re nice. Even if you act like an idiot.” 

Teldryn grinned. “I appreciate the back-handed compliment, Thinker Llethri.” 

“You…” Teldryn saw him swallow. “You can call me Rels. If you’d like.” 

Something warm unfurled behind Teldryn’s sternum — something fiercely protective that made him want to storm back into Ald-ruhn and knock that woman’s teeth out, to grab that guard by his pauldrons and slam him into the ground. He’d take on the entire damn town for a mer he still barely knew and it would be a  _ privilege _ . The feeling was intense, but it passed quickly, and Teldryn was left with a general sense of fondness. 

“Rels…” he said for the second time, testing it on his tongue. “It’s a nice name.” He watched with no small amount of satisfaction as a purple flush spread across Llethri’s face.  _ Rels’s _ face. He smirked. “I’d love it if you called me Teldryn. ‘Associate’ was getting old.”

“It’s procedure,” Rels argued, still blushing furiously. “And you should still address me as Thinker when we’re at headquarters.” 

Teldryn placed a hand over his heart. “On my honor.” He laughed, feeling giddy. “Oh, wait a minute.” He shifted onto his knees to dig through his pack with determination.  _ Where was it? _ He could have sworn… “Aha!” With a flourish, he pulled forth a half-full bottle of sujamma. “For while we wait.”

Rels wrinkled his nose. “I don’t really like sujamma.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, my friend,” Teldryn pointed out, scuffling on his knees across the floor to sit down next to Rels. He fell back against the wall with a grunt, unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a deep whiff. “Ahh, come on. How can you not like that?” He held it out for Rels to sniff. 

“By the Three…” Rels waved him away. “You’ll burn the hairs out of my nose.”

“Good stuff,” Teldryn insisted, tipping his head back to take a swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm. He held it out to Rels, cocking his head in a silent question. 

“Why not.” Rels sighed in defeat. “Nothing better to do.”

They passed the bottle back and forth until it was empty. Teldryn filled the silence between them with chatter about anything that came to mind. He was good at talking about not much in particular. Rels just listened, slowly relaxing until he unfurled his knees and his shoulder bumped against Teldryn’s. The sujamma slowly loosened his tongue and Teldryn finally got him to talk a bit more, mainly about his time with the Morag Tong — mundane things. He was tight lipped about his personal life, but seemed in no short supply of opinions on the other members at headquarters.

“Dral is an asshole,” Rels declared. “Ulmesi is nice. So is Rogdul, but he snores like an alit.”   
  
“I noticed.” Teldryn chuckled. “What about the other branches?” 

Rels proceeded to give him all the ins-and-outs and the who’s-who of the entire guild. It was… a lot to take in at once. Teldryn was beginning to get the distinct impression that Rels wasn’t terribly popular among his other guildmates. Skilled, most certainly; the favorite child of the Masters, undoubtedly. Popular? Definitely not. It made the feeling of protectiveness return, stronger this time. 

Teldryn inched a little closer, leaned into Rels a bit more. If Rels noticed, he didn’t move away, continuing to list off the members of the Balmora guild. Teldryn sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Rels seemed like an outcast no matter where he found himself. Teldryn could relate to that, at least.

Their conversation died down naturally, tapering off into a relatively comfortable silence. The wind still shook the door of the cave, and Teldryn prayed this wouldn’t be another storm that stretched on for days. He opened his mouth to say something when he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. Rels had tipped to the side, his head falling against Teldryn, breathing slow and even. He’d fallen asleep. 

Teldryn sat perfectly still, hyper aware of every sudden itch, every need to shift. He didn’t dare move a muscle. Rels let out a puff of breath and Teldryn closed his eyes again, inhaling deeply through his nose. This was fine. Everything was fine.

His eyes fluttered back open and he glanced down where Rels’s hands lay folded in his lap. The brand was a soft stoneflower blue, thick and shiny, pulling the skin taut.  _ House Redoran. What a bunch of bastards _ . Teldryn closed his eyes again, leaning to rest his cheek against the top of Rels’s head. He stayed like that, even after he heard the door stop rattling as the wind died down. Farvyn Gavos could live a bit longer. Teldryn was content to let Rels rest, if only for a short moment. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again, jottingprosaist, for being such a lovely beta. <3 You're my hero.

They reached Maar Gan at sundown that same day. Guards patrolled the streets with torches and a lamplighter moved from arch to arch, slowly illuminating the small settlement. Nervousness itched along Teldryn’s skin, making him jittery in a way he hadn’t experienced with his two previous writs. Rels waited outside the Outpost while Teldryn spoke to a snippy red-headed Dunmer woman who seemed reluctant to tell him much of anything. He used the ‘courier’ line, feeling like a cheap imitation, but it got him the information he needed. He trudged back out the door to find Rels leaning against the building, almost completely obscured by shadow. 

“He’s staying in the Tradehouse. By the sound of it, if I had waited one more day I might have missed him.” 

“Sometimes that ends up being the case,” Rels said. “You just have to be prepared for a long journey, no matter what.” They walked through the town side-by-side. 

“I feel strange…” Teldryn scratched at the back of his neck, checking over his shoulder. “I feel jumpy. I didn’t feel this way with the other ones.” 

“I am technically supposed to report back on your success,” Rels offered. “Performance anxiety?”    


“Har har.” Teldryn smirked in his direction. “I’ll have you known I perform  _ very _ well under pressure.” 

“Focus,” Rels admonished, his ears turning red. 

“You made the joke. For the record.” 

“Did you get a physical description?” Subject change.

Teldryn shook his head. “He’s Dunmer. That’s all I got.” They climbed the northwestern stairs. Teldryn checked over his shoulder again. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” Rels asked. 

Teldryn turned back. “I just feel like I’m being watched…” 

The barkeep at the Tradehouse pointed Teldryn downstairs, saying that Gavos had just turned in for the night. Rels gave him a weak thumbs-up and sat down at one of the tables upstairs. It didn’t exactly instill him with confidence. That, and the strange prickle along the back of his neck hadn’t gone away.

He descended the stairs slowly, attempting to clear his mind.  _ Rels doesn’t think _ , Teldryn told himself.  _ You can think afterwards. _ The lower level was deserted save for a lone wood elf sitting at a table in the far corner smoking a pipe. She eyed Teldryn warily but said nothing, smoke curling from her nostrils. He walked towards one of the rooms for rent, pushing open the door to find it empty. He let out an exhale, moving to the next one. It was locked, but soft candlelight flickered beneath the crack at the bottom. Teldryn knocked. It felt absurd -- an assassin knocking at the door. Nobody in their right mind would answer. 

There was the sound of shuffling, bare feet on a stone floor, and the door opened. 

“May I help you?” He was Dunmer, tall and thin, with a hooked nose and deep set eyes.

“Farvyn Gavos?” Teldryn asked. 

The man said nothing, his expression turning oddly blank. He stared at Teldryn, unmoving. 

“Is your name Farvyn Gavos?” Teldryn tried again. The man was trapped — there was nowhere for him to run. All Teldryn had to do was—   
  
  
“I am a sleeper.” 

Teldryn’s blood turned to ice as the man’s voice pitched into something odd, as if his vocal chords had split. 

“One among thousands.”

Teldryn swallowed and furrowed his brow. “Well, I don’t rightly care what you are, unless your name is Farvyn Gavos,” he growled. Though he was there as the hunter having cornered his prey, every instinct he had told him to run.

The mer continued as if Teldryn hadn’t said anything at all: “I bring you a message. Dagoth Ur calls you, Teldryn Sero, and you cannot deny your Lord.”

Teldryn’s breath caught in his throat.  _ How…? _ He unsheathed his dagger, prepared to kill this mer regardless of a writ. “Who are you!?” 

“Beneath Red Mountain, Lord Dagoth sleeps. But when he wakes, we all shall rise, and the dust will blow away.” He looked Teldryn directly in the eyes. There was a dull, rhythmic thumping in Teldryn’s ears. His own heartbeat? No… it was far too slow. Too deep. “Serve your Lord, Dagoth Ur. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is in its glory.” 

Then the man blinked rapidly as if waking from a dream. His eyes dropped from Teldryn’s face to the dagger in his hand and before Teldryn even had a moment to react, his entire body convulsed as a shock spell hit him square in the chest. He stumbled backwards with a strangled yelp, knocking into the wall of the staircase. Another spell wracked his body and he cried out again through clenched teeth, biting down on his tongue hard enough to taste blood. 

“The bloody Morag Tong will have to do better than that!” 

Teldryn snarled, regained his footing, and lunged forward. But in a flash and a pop Farvyn Gavos was gone, and Teldryn’s dagger cut through empty air. He staggered forward, catching himself against the door frame. He sucked in a breath, held it. Blood rushed into his face as anger coursed hot through his body and he flushed from head to toe.  _ What the fuck just happened? _

“Teldryn.” He whirled around. Rels was standing at the bottom of the stairs, confusion etched across his face. “Where’s the target?” 

“Gone,” Teldryn spat, sheathing his dagger and pushing into Gavos’s room. 

Rels followed him and closed the door quietly behind them. “Gone how?” he asked. 

“Teleported, or recalled or…  _ something!” _ Teldryn clenched his jaw, tugged his scarf loose, and pushed his goggles on top of his helm. He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath through his nose. His body ached in the aftershock of the spell. 

“What went wrong?” Rels was being strangely calm. It was making Teldryn angrier than he might have been otherwise. 

“He started  _ speaking _ to me. And he called me by name.” Teldryn sat down on the bed. “It knocked me completely off balance.” 

Rels’s face had gone pale. “Sometimes our writs are people we know—” 

“I’ve never seen the mer in my life!” Teldryn dropped his head into his hands to rub at his temples. “But now he’s gone. And I have no idea where he went. So, in short, I failed. Spectacularly.”

Another beat of silence passed before Rels sat down beside him, promptly followed by more silence. Teldryn continued to hold his head in his hands, still breathing heavily. He could feel himself shaking, so he dug his fingers into his scalp, willing his muscles to still. His stomach was knotted, the taste of iron still lingering in his mouth. The room seemed too small and Rels was too close.

“What did he say?” Rels asked, and it took every bit of power Teldryn had left not to lash out at him. Instead, he sat up, took a long, deep inhale, and turned to look Rels in the eye. He looked… concerned. Neither angry nor patronizing, both of which Teldryn had expected. With another breath, he pulled off his glove to twist the ring on his finger, sparking a bit of the healing enchantment to take the edge off. 

“He called himself a sleeper.” Teldryn continued to twist the ring. The words were drifting from his mind like ash through his fingers, more difficult to grasp the harder he tried to remember. “He called me by name, and then started talking about Dagoth Ur. Something about the Sixth House… And then,” Teldryn snapped his fingers, “it was like the spell wore off. He saw my dagger and attacked. Then vanished.” 

Rels looked disturbed. “Maybe he was Blighted. It’s common in this region.” 

“Oh, believe me, I know what Blight looks like.” Teldryn chuckled darkly. “The mer was as healthy as they come. Strange, but healthy. And I’m just… How did he know my name?” He ran a hand through his hair, looking to Rels as if he might actually have the answer. He said nothing, just continued to stare at Teldryn with those big, red eyes that  _ weren’t _ helping the situation. Teldryn groaned and got to his feet, looking around the room. 

A half-eaten loaf of bread and an open bottle of mazte sat on the small bedside table. There was a pack, as well as a pair of shoes—

He’d teleported off without his shoes? No: from the looks of it, Gavos had left  _ all _ of his belongings behind. Suddenly reinvigorated, Teldryn stepped across the room to rummage through the pack and pulled out a ragged journal. He flipped through the pages to get to the last few entries and quickly skimmed through the mer’s scrib-scratch handwriting, deciphering what little he could.

“Alright, so it seems like he was well aware the Morag Tong might be after him. Which is… going to make my job difficult.” Teldryn sighed. “Looks like his goal was to catch a boat to Blacklight, then cross the border into Skyrim. Unfortunately for him…” Teldryn reached into the pack to pull out a fat coin purse. “It looks like all of his provisions are right here in this room.” 

“If he’s smart, he won’t come back here,” Rels said. 

“A desperate man is very rarely a smart one,” Teldryn argued. “I know from experience.”

Rels crossed his arms, giving Teldryn a thoughtful look. “You think he will, then?” 

“I think he has to.” Teldryn closed the journal with a snap. “It’s either that or he starts from nothing, which a mer in his situation doesn’t have the luxury to do. He knows we’ll still be after him — hunting him. Plus, he already bested me, at least in his understanding, so he may underestimate me.”

“How long will you wait?”

A perfectly reasonable question. Teldryn thought for a moment. “Well… From here it would probably take about four days to get to the northern coast on foot, then half a day’s journey to get to Blacklight by boat. As it stands, he has no money or supplies, so it might take him even longer. I figure I’ll wait here for two days maximum; if he doesn’t show, I catch the strider back to Ald-ruhn and give one of those mages at the guild the time of their life. Then, wooed by my talents as a bedfellow, they’ll agree to teleport my arse a bit closer to where I need to be. Finally, once I get to Blacklight, there’s no way he’ll be able to hide from me in that city.” Teldryn grinned. “I grew up there.” 

Rels just stared at him, lips slightly parted, eyebrows raised. “That’s your plan?” 

Teldryn shrugged. “The one I just thought of, yes.” 

“That…” Rels let out a long sigh. “That is the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey!”

“Sleep with a mage to get them to teleport you?”  “You underestimate my abilities,” Teldryn said with a waggle of his brow. “I can be very persuasive.” 

Rels flushed with a scowl, averting his gaze. “You do have a good point though. If his plan is to leave the country, then he either spends the time re-gathering supplies, or he comes back. Either way, he’s still chancing another run-in with the Morag Tong.” 

“Exactly. And this room will be turned over for the next guest this time tomorrow night. So he has a limited window before his stuff gets swept up by the innkeeper.” Teldryn allowed himself a smug smile before dropping the expression. “Listen, you really don’t have to stick around for all this. He got away and it’s on me to catch him. You completed your writ. You should go home.” 

Rels drew himself up a little straighter, pulling his shoulders back. “It’s my assignment from the Grandmaster to shadow you until you’ve completed your writ.” He fixed Teldryn with a hard stare. “I’m staying.” 

Teldryn grinned despite himself, and surprisingly, Rels offered a small smile in return. 

\--- 

They set up a camp of sorts in the other vacant room at the Tradehouse. It was slightly more expensive, but much larger than the one Gavos had rented, complete with a full-sized bed, dresser, table, and chairs. Teldryn would have given his left foot for a bath, but knew he couldn’t afford a single moment’s downtime. The following twenty-four hours were going to be exhausting. He was secretly very glad he wouldn’t be facing it alone. 

Rels had suggested they change clothes, blend in a bit more with the civilians. Teldryn was praising the Three that he’d had his face covered when he’d attacked: Gavos wouldn’t be able to recognize him if he did come back. That lingering ‘if’ drove Teldryn the tiniest bit mad. It was a risky plan. He could be completely wasting his and Rels’s time. But what other choice did he have? 

Teldryn changed into more casual clothes as quickly as he could, tucking his dagger into his pant leg so it lay flush against his thigh. He felt naked without his armor. He snuck a glance at Rels as he pulled his undershirt over his head and shamelessly raked his eyes down the mer’s toned back, lingering on the two dimples in the muscles just above the hem of his pants. He tore his eyes away when Rels turned around, focusing instead on re-lacing his boots and ignoring the gnawing want that had suddenly made itself known.

“Teldryn.”

He jerked his gaze up as Rels approached, something clutched in his hand. 

“Here.” He presented a small amulet. “It’s enchanted with Shadow Weave. Use it.”

Teldryn turned the amulet over in his palm, running a thumb across its shimmering surface. It was small, fit nicely in the center of his palm, not quite round with beveled edges and a single ruby in the center. Slowly, Teldryn realized it was the subtle shape of a spider web. “I’ll give it back once I’m done,” he assured with a smile. 

Rels just shrugged, turning away. “Keep it. I didn’t come by it honestly, anyway. Just pass it on when you don’t need it anymore.”

Teldryn studied the pendant for a moment longer then looped the delicate chain around his neck, tucking it beneath his shirt. It was cold against his bare chest but quickly warmed to match his skin. He finished lacing up his boots and went upstairs. The innkeeper gave him a warm smile as he ordered a bottle of greef. It wasn’t his favorite, but Rels seemed to favor it over other drinks. He sat down at the table closest to the railing, giving him a clear view of the front door. There was a good chance that Gavos would teleport back into the building, but those types of spells took a lot of energy and magicka. It was also possible that Gavos had used a simple recall — probably something close by for a quick getaway. The Morag Tong had been expected, after all.

He absentmindedly ran his fingers over the center of his shirt, feeling the outline of the pendant beneath the fabric. Rels was getting to him. A single day had felt like a week between the two of them, and Teldryn could hardly believe he’d woken up in Balmora that morning. It was the bloody cave. Teldryn kept thinking back to it — Rels’s head against his shoulder, the slightly baffled look on his face when he’d come to, how his ears had flushed indigo as he repeatedly apologized. He’d already found him distractingly attractive, but now that there was a sense of camaraderie between them, it was so much worse. Because now Teldryn felt like he had a  _ chance _ . It was a new challenge. And it couldn’t have come at a worse time. 

The door of the Tradehouse opened and Teldryn snapped to attention, straightening up and reaching instinctively for his dagger. It was just an orc. He sunk back down in his seat with a sigh, senses alight. He’d have to push Rels to the back of his mind.  _ Later _ , he promised.  _ If I get through this writ alive… _ Unfortunately, his distraction was currently making his way up the stairs, every last lean inch of him. Teldryn watched as if transfixed as Rels looked around for a moment, searching, before his gaze fell to where Teldryn sat. Their eyes met and Teldryn’s stomach lurched.  _ Oh, I’m rightly fucked. _ He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter, affecting a casual smirk. 

“Got your favorite,” he said as Rels sat down. 

“My favorite?” 

“Greef.” Teldryn pushed the bottle towards him. “You… It seemed to be your drink of choice.” 

Rels let out a little laugh, giving Teldryn a curious look. “Thanks, I guess.”

_ Fuck, he doesn’t like it. _ “I can get something else if you don’t--” 

“No, this is fine.” Rels pulled the bottle towards him. “You should focus.” 

“Right.”  _ Focus, Teldryn. You’re not on a fucking date, you’re waiting for a second chance to murder a guy. _ He resisted the urge to slam his head against the table. Instead he smiled. “So, how’d you get the scar on your face?” Rels blanched and Teldryn wanted so badly to put his foot in his mouth. “You know, maybe I shouldn’t be trying to make small talk.” 

“Yeah, probably not.”

That was that, then. They sat in silence. Rels slowly sipped his greef and avoided eye contact while Teldryn watched the door, determined not to look at Rels’s throat every time he swallowed. Another hour passed and they managed to exchange a few words at least. He learned that Rels considered himself to be a devout worshiper of Mephala. Appropriate for the Morag Tong.    
  
“It is impossible to understand Mephala completely,” he said. “She works in the shadows, just as we do. Often her reasons are never revealed, only the results. But when Mephala guides my hand, I know that there is purpose behind it. She leads me in all that I do.” 

Rels also spoke  _ very _ highly of Eno Hlaalu. So much so that he strictly referred to him as ‘Grandmaster’, very much in the same way a temple priest might say ‘Lord Vivec.’ It was endearing. Although Teldryn was quickly beginning to realize that he found  _ everything _ about Rels endearing. Even now Teldryn watched hypnotized as Rels poured himself another small cup of greef: he paused, decided the cup wasn’t full enough, poured a little more, then sat the bottle down and corked it. It was nothing at all and Teldryn still found it absolutely  _ charming. _ On the other end of the spectrum, he couldn’t tell if Rels liked him or not. He’d given him the pendant, sure, but he’d acted like it hadn’t meant a whole lot to him in the first place. So perhaps it was nothing—

The door opened and Teldryn snapped to attention again. A Breton woman walked in shaking ash from her hair. 

Rels sighed audibly. “If you jump like that every time someone opens the door, you  _ are _ going to give yourself away.”

“I can’t help it,” Teldryn grumbled. 

“Yes you can. Center yourself. Stay present.” 

“I don’t know how to stay any more present than I already am.” Teldryn stood, groaning into a stretch. “In fact, I was being so present that my arse went numb.” 

Rels laughed and Teldryn’s heart fluttered a bit. “What I mean, is,” he started again, “don’t let your mind drift.” 

Teldryn scoffed. “Easier said than done…”    
  
“It takes practice.” Rels shrugged. “Just like anything else.” 

“Of course.” Teldryn didn’t feel like sitting down again. “I’m going to take a lap, if you don’t mind. Stretch my legs.” 

“I’ll keep watch,” Rels agreed with a nod. Teldryn patted him on the shoulder as he passed, just to touch him. The movement felt forced and jerky and Teldryn immediately regretted it, curling his hands into fists at his sides. He trotted down the two flights of stairs and proceeded to make multiple laps around the downstairs, stopping every now and then to stretch out his hips and thighs. The thought of having to go back upstairs and sit in silence was incredibly unappealing, so Teldryn took a seat at one of the tables where he was. He looked at Gavos’ door, got up, checked the room — his belongings were unmoved — then went and sat back down. 

Just as he prepared to settle in for another long wait, he heard the main door open upstairs. He sat up before relaxing again, trying to stay present. Nobody came down the stairs and Teldryn took a deep breath, picking at the splinters on the table.

Then a strange smell wafted his way. Brimstone. As if someone had just opened up a window to the ash wastes. Keeping his head down, Teldryn glanced up. There was a presence in the room that hadn’t been there before.  _ Invisibility, _ Teldryn thought, slowly reaching for his dagger.

As silent as a shadow, Rels appeared at the top of the stairs. He and Teldryn locked eyes and Rels nodded.

In the periphery of Teldryn’s vision, the door to Gavos’ room swung open by an unseen hand. 

Teldryn unsheathed his dagger and pulled the pendant Rels had given him from beneath his shirt. With a slight push of magicka, the enchantment flickered to life, cloaking him with a chameleon spell. This was his only chance. He approached the door, each step softer than the next. He placed one hand against the wood and paused. He could hear Gavos shuffling around, hastily but quietly collecting his things. He had to move  _ now. _

With a sharp exhale, Teldryn shouldered the door open and burst into the room. Gavos already had his pack on and stood with magicka pooling between his hands. His eyes were wide with fear as Teldryn lunged, plunging the dagger beneath his ribs, angling it up towards his heart. But then, before Teldryn could even blink—

One moment he was standing in Gavos’s room, the next he felt the sickening sensation of falling very suddenly and very fast. Then he was outside in the dark night.

Gavos gurgled, clutching at Teldryn’s shoulders. Teldryn stepped backwards, wrenched his dagger free, and slashed open the front of Gavos’s throat in one fluid motion. The mer fell to the ground, twitching once, twice, before he fell still. Teldryn looked around. 

He was standing in the ash wastes. The night sky loomed above him dappled with stars. Masser and Secunda sat low on the horizon, full and bright.  _ Fuck. _ Gavos had been in the midst of casting a teleportation spell…

  
And he had taken Teldryn with him. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shout out to jottingprosaist for being an amazing beta. ;A;

The first thing Teldryn did was panic.

A deep, primal fear roiled hot in his gut, burning like the bile rising slowly in the back of his throat. He was going to die. Alone. Helpless. Not a quick death, either. One that most likely involved being mauled by wild animals or slowly consumed by the Blight. After the initial panic subsided, Teldryn shifted immediately into acceptance. It was fine. This was fine. He was stuck in the middle of nowhere, no armor, no supplies, only his dagger and the pendant Rels had given him. He looked down at the cooling corpse at his feet. He had Gavos’s supplies, though.

Acceptance quickly shifted into strategizing. He tore into the dead mer’s pack, praying for even just _one_ bracer. A pauldron. _Anything._ He sat back on his haunches with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes. The damn mage only had two more sets of robes. Teldryn cursed, dumping out the unnecessary provisions and reorganizing the pack. He had a bit of water at least, food, a few potions of healing, magicka restoration, a blight cure… He wasn’t completely screwed. Well, _if_ he could find his way to a settlement he wasn’t completely screwed. Time would tell.

First things first:, Teldryn needed to find the road. Gavos wouldn’t have marked this spot without a reason. He had to be close to... _somewhere_. The moons were low enough that Teldryn at least knew which way was east. It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but the landscape seemed to indicate that he was still in the West Gash region — not quite to the Ashlands. He adjusted the pack and decided to go southeast. He’d run into either Maar Gan or Ald-ruhn eventually.

The sound of nocturnal creatures swirled around him -- distant growls, screeches, and howls rising up from ash dunes. Teldryn’s eyes darted about, his senses on high alert. He walked for a long while but found no road. The passing of time was nebulous, felt only in the slow ascent of the moons. Absently, he ran a hand over the pendant, his mind flitting momentarily to Rels. What would he do upon finding Teldryn had vanished? The sensible thing to do would be to pack up and head back to Vivec. He hoped for Rels’s sake that he did just that. A much larger part of him, though, hoped that perhaps he’d come looking for him…

“Pathetic,” Teldryn grumbled under his breath.

A screech from behind had Teldryn whirling around, dagger at the ready. A cliff racer was speeding towards him. Teldryn ducked and rolled, avoiding its claws by an inch. He sprung back to his feet and watched as the creature circled back around, gripping his dagger even tighter. This time when it swooped, Teldryn ripped a gash into its soft stomach.

He paid for his accuracy with a talon to the shoulder. Hot blood sprayed across his arm as the cliff racer shrieked. Its flight path faltered and it collided with the hard earth, kicking up a spray of ash and dust as it whirled on him. It let out an ear-piercing cry as it scrambled towards him, a creature of rage and fury, trailing blood and viscera. Teldryn dodged the snap of its beak and sunk his dagger into the side of the thing’s neck. It collapsed with a hoarse warble.

Teldryn’s heart was racing, his shoulder on fire. He used a little bit of his water to wash the wound, but elected to save the healing potion in the case of something more dire.

He continued on, refusing to let his guard down. _Stay present,_ Rels’s voice echoed in his head.

Another hour passed, maybe more. The moons were high in the sky above him. His feet ached and his throat was parched. The water skin was half empty and he only allowed himself small sips at a time. He considered using the magicka potions, just to have something to drink, but refrained. Exhaustion hit him in waves as if he were fighting against a rising tide, putting one foot in front of the other only to have another swell knock him backwards.

After trudging through another long stretch of endless dunes, cliff racers screeching in the distance and guars growling just out of sight, Teldryn finally collapsed between a small outcropping of rocks. He’d have to wait until sun-up to go any further. For all he knew, he’d been walking in the wrong direction for _hours_ at this point. He allowed himself another sip of water, down to dribbles in the bottom of the bottle. What a pathetic way to die, if it came down to it. He closed his eyes, taking deep steadying breaths.

In these moments, a devout mer might turn to prayer. Teldryn had a tenuous relationship with spirits greater than himself, and his ancestors had ignored him for so long that he’d given up on calling to them for aid. He’d grown accustomed to the Imperial cult during his time in Cyrodiil, but had never felt comfortable worshiping any of the Divines. The Tribunal made him nervous in a way he couldn’t quite put a name to. So where did that leave him? His mind drifted back to Rels once again — as was becoming a habit. What he wouldn’t give to have that mer’s unshakable trust in Mephala right about now. _‘She leads me in all that I do.’_ Right. Did she lead Teldryn into the middle of the ash wastes to die like a beast? Perhaps this was her way of saying she didn’t want him in the Morag Tong, which was fair of her. Teldryn could take a hint.

He drifted in and out of sleep, his injured shoulder throbbing hard enough to wake him up on multiple occasions. The final time his sleep was interrupted, he woke up in a cold sweat shaking like a leaf. His skull felt too tight, his skin too raw, and his throat was swollen and sore. _Blight._

Teldryn tore through Gavos’s pack to pull out the cure potion and chugged it as quickly as he could, gasping for breath once it was all gone. The effect was nearly instant: the fog of malaise cleared and left him immediately alert. He could feel the blisters that had formed on his feet, but pushed to stand regardless.

The last sliver of the moons were sinking below the horizon to the west, soft blue twilight beginning to lighten the sky. _Azura’s hour._

Something powerful and ineffable surged in his chest at that thought: the abrupt, palpable feeling of no longer being alone. It was both comforting and terrifying, a paradigm shift so sudden that Teldryn was left feeling light-headed.

He licked his lips and tested the name on his tongue: “Azura…”

A shiver ran down his spine, prickled into the soles of his feet. The hairs on his arms stood on end. Teldryn felt electrified in a way he’d never experienced before. Was this what it was like when someone prayed? When something transcendent made themselves known?

Off in the distance, between the smattering of rock formations, Teldryn saw a light.

Shaken from his reverie, he took off running, ignoring the pain in his feet. He activated the enchantment in the pendant and narrowly avoided detection by circling cliff racers, skirted around a pack of guar, and sidestepped a startled rat. As he drew closer, it became clearer that the light was the flicker of a torch — a person. _The road._ Teldryn stumbled up the rocky hill just as the chameleon spell ended.

“Excuse me!”

The person jumped and turned around. He was… a half-naked Nord?

“Scared me half to death, lad!” he barked. “Running out of the darkness like a skeever.”

“I’m lost,” Teldryn said, panting slightly. “Are we near Maar Gan?”

The Nord just pointed up the road. “Should be that way. Say, you wouldn’t mind helping—”

“Thank you!”

Teldryn took off running, completely uninterested in helping anyone other than himself at the moment. The sun spilled across the landscape, lighting his path as he sprinted, bathing the rolling dunes in oranges and reds. Landmarks fell into place, familiar, comforting. When he heard the first wail of the silt strider, Teldryn almost wept.He rounded the final bend to see the tall guard towers of Maar Gan rising in the distance and pushed the final length, only slowing to a jog as he passed through the city’s main archway. Then, before he could even begin to make his way to the Tradehouse, he came face-to-face with Rels.

They both stopped dead in their tracks, silently staring at each other. Rels was dressed in his full armor, a satchel slung across his shoulders.

“I was going to look for you,” he said, a flush creeping across his face. “I was waiting until sun-up.”

Teldryn let out a breathless laugh, taking a step forward. “Well, I found you first.”

A pause. “Did you execute your writ?” Rels took a tentative step towards him as well.

Teldryn nodded. “Honorably, I might add.”

Rels’s smile made everything feel worth it, and Teldryn barely thought twice before he closed the gap between them and pulled him in for a hug. Rels went completely stiff and his thick leather armor dug into Teldryn’s stomach, but Teldryn held tighter, pressed his nose into Rels’s hair and inhaled. He might have held him for a moment too long considering they were still barely friends, but Teldryn was having a hard time caring, especially when Rels’s hands slid around to rest on his low back and the muscles in his neck relaxed ever so slightly.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Teldryn murmured.

“Yeah,” Rels agreed.

\--

Teldryn drummed his fingers across the table, his left leg bouncing with nervous energy. He sat in the common area of the Morag Tong headquarters in Vivec city, waiting for Rels to finish speaking with Eno Hlaalu about his performance. Technically, Rels hadn’t been able to shadow Teldryn through the entirety of the writ. He wondered if that mattered. He wondered if Rels would mention that.

“Will you cut that out?” Dral snapped from across the room. “Your fidgeting is making me want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Teldryn stared at him for a long moment, then proceeded to drum with both hands and bounce both his legs. Dral let out a growl and left the room, bumping his shoulder against Rels as he rounded the corner. Rels watched him go with a scowl before stepping over to Teldryn, who immediately stood.

“The Grandmaster will see you now.”

“Thank you, Thinker Llethri,” he responded with a flourishing bow.

Rels punched him amicably in the shoulder before turning to walk back the way he’d just come, leading Teldryn through the guild hall. Teldryn’s heart beat rapidly against his ribcage as they climbed the stairs and rounded the corner. He glanced momentarily at Rels’s ass to make himself feel better before refocusing.

Eno Hlaalu was sitting at his desk, scrawling something onto a piece of parchment in elegant, looping script. Someone’s death sentence, most likely. He looked up when Teldryn stood at attention. As usual, he was completely expressionless.

“Thinker Llethri gave me an honest opinion on your performance,” he began, rising to his feet. “According to his report, you completed the writ for Farvyn Gavos honorably. Here is your payment.”

The sack of gold was heavy in Teldryn’s palm as he took it — the cost of a life. “Thank you, Grandmaster.”

“Tell me, Associate Sero.” Eno tilted his head ever so slightly, inquisitive. “How do you feel about your accomplishments within the Morag Tong?”

The question hung heavily in the air, swinging like a pendulum between the two of them. Teldryn swallowed. “I… Well, I—” He cleared his throat. “If I may speak honestly, Grandmaster, I don’t think I belong here.”

He heard Rels shift behind him, suck in a breath through his nose. Eno Hlaalu’s expression didn’t change. His deep red eyes pinned Teldryn to the spot.

“Is that so?”

“I’m so grateful for the opportunity. And I’ve learned so much in such a short amount of time. But…” He turned around to look at Rels — a mistake. His expression was one of open betrayal and hurt. Teldryn quickly looked away, turning back to Eno. “My time with Thinker Llethri showed me a lot. Namely, that he’s not only an incredibly skilled assassin, but has an unshakable loyalty to his cause. _Your_ cause. I… I just don’t have that.” He paused to see if he would be dismissed. Eno simply looked thoughtful, so Teldryn continued. “And while I think that, with time and training, I could become a skilled assassin, I don’t know if time and training will ever mold me into a proper ambassador for the Morag Tong.”

Silence followed as Eno Hlaalu studied Teldryn for longer than was comfortable. Teldryn swallowed again, hyper aware of Rels behind him and yet not daring to turn around again.

“I appreciate your honesty.”

Teldryn let out a breath. “I mean no disrespect.”

“I understand that.” Remarkably, he offered the barest hint of a smile. “It takes a certain amount of courage to admit your weaknesses, to know and bare your flaws. It is the honorable thing to do. While I do believe you hold promise, I also recognize the look of a captive when I see one. You are free to go.”

Teldryn bowed deeply before turning around. Rels hadn’t moved, and his expression, unlike the Grandmaster’s, hadn’t softened. Wordlessly, he spun on his heel and stormed down the hall. Teldryn hurried after him.

“Thinker, wait.”

Rels ignored him, walking through the sleeping quarters and jogging down the stairs. Teldryn followed him all the way to the trap door before he finally reached out to grab his arm.

“Rels, please!”

Rels jerked out of his grip, fury still burning hot behind his eyes. “So all of this was some kind of joke to you?”

“What? No. Please, I—”

“Did you enjoy wasting my time? Find it funny?”

“Stop.” Teldryn was angry now. He took Rels by the arm again. “Would you just let me explain myself, please?”

Rels’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing.

Teldryn sighed and released his grip. “Look, can I buy you a drink? Can we have a chat? I don’t...” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I was just starting to get to know you.”

Rels stood silent for a long moment, staring at Teldryn with a tight jaw and a creased brow. “Fine.” He turned and climbed the ladder, then pushed through the trap door. Teldryn sighed again and followed him.

The walk to Black Shalk Cornerclub was quiet and tense. Teldryn tried to lighten the mood with a few ill-timed jokes that only seemed to make Rels angrier. He kept his mouth shut until they’d arrived and ordered their first drink. Teldryn paid for Rels’s greef before he could say anything, which did not earn him any sympathy.

“Alright, we’re having drinks.” Rels glared at him. “Now what?”

Teldryn couldn’t help it: he laughed. Rels was trying so hard to be cold and unapproachable that it had warped into something comedic. It was clearly a defense mechanism. So, Teldryn decided to do what he did best to diffuse tense situations: flirt. “You’re incredibly attractive, do you know that?”

Rels flushed harder than he’d seen him flush yet. He bared his teeth in a snarl. “Are you making fun of me?!”

“No!” _Sweet Veloth, he might actually hit me._ Teldryn turned to the bar with another disbelieving laugh. He gripped his cup, staring into his drink. Maybe flirting wasn’t going to work either. Back to honesty, then. “I… I was really enjoying getting to know you. And I wanted to _keep_ getting to know you.” He hazarded a glance. “I think you’re fascinating. Talented. Devoted. I meant everything I said to the Grandmaster.” Teldryn took a quick sip of his sujamma, running his tongue across his teeth to buy a moment. “You’ve had a rough past. So have I. And, I don’t know… I thought we might be friends. Even if I’m not in the Morag Tong.” He looked back to Rels questioningly.

Rels didn’t look as angry anymore, though his expression was far from friendly. His gaze flickered between Teldryn’s face and his own drink. “The more you get to know me, the less you’ll want to be my friend.”

Well, Teldryn could work with that at least. He leaned into Rels’s space, rested his elbow against the bar, his chin in his hand, and put on his most charming smile. “Try me.”

Finally he made Rels crack the smallest smile, though Rels quickly covered it up with an even deeper scowl. “I’m serious.”

“You’re nothing _but_ serious,” Teldryn argued. “I think that’s part of your problem. What do you do for fun?” Rels gave him a confused look.

Teldryn ran a hand over his eyes. “Well, that answers that.”

“Hey! Come on, I…” Rels chewed his lip for a moment then took a long drink, averting his gaze.

Teldryn clapped him on his back and Rels sputtered a little bit. “See? Wound tighter than a Dwemer puzzle box. You’d benefit from kicking back a bit. I’ll have to take you to this spot on the Bitter Coast sometime. Close to Seyda Neen. The water is warm and the fungus is among us. Gorgeous, once you kill all the mudcrabs.”

Rels tried to hide his smile in his drink. “You’re so weird.”

“I’ll take ‘weird’,” Teldryn conceded with a grin.

He got Rels talking after that, mostly about mundane things: their favorite places in Morrowind, their favorite types of food, the best places to buy armor. Despite having the usual xenophobic tendencies most Dunmer were wont to have, Rels listened rather intently when Teldryn spoke of his travels through Skyrim and Cyrodiil, eyes bright and curious.

“I wanted to make it into Elsweyr,” Teldryn lamented with a sigh. “But then, of course…” He gestured to his wrist, the tattoo just barely visible above the cuff of his sleeve.

“Why did you go to prison?” Rels asked, then flushed. “I mean, if it’s all right for me to ask.”

Teldryn waved him off. “It’s fine. It’s just a long story about stupidity and misguided trust. It’s unfortunately boring.”

“You can bore me,” Rels said with a small smile, leaning on the bar. Probably the most openly flirtatious he’d been yet. Teldryn couldn’t let that go to waste.

“Oh?” Teldryn mimicked his posture. “Find me boring, do you?”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that…” He faded off as Teldryn began to laugh, his face pinching into a pout.

“I promise I’ll tell you eventually. Just not tonight. It’s been too pleasant. I’d hate to spoil the mood.”

Rels offered a sympathetic smile. “I didn’t mean to pry.” He looked down into his empty cup, then at the barkeep and the bar around them. Then at Teldryn. “We should head back. It’s late.”

“I’ll probably stay here.” Teldryn knocked back the rest of his drink and wiped his mouth. “I’m not Morag Tong anymore, so it wouldn’t make much sense for me to crash the guild hall.” His pulse spiked as he sensed his opening. “You’re welcome to stay with me, if you’d like.”

Rels just stared at him, brows slowly drawing together in confusion. “Stay with you?”

“If you’d like,” Teldryn repeated. He placed a hand on Rels’s knee.

Rels’s eyes went wide and he immediately stood up.

Teldryn quickly raised his hands in submission. “Only if you want to!” he added again. Rels was staring at him with a hard-to-parse expression, jaw clenched tight. He looked half ready to bolt out the door. Teldryn felt the situation slipping between his fingers. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, suddenly self-conscious. “I just thought I’d offer.”

“Why me?” Rels asked.

That… wasn’t what he expected him to say. Teldryn cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why me? Why not...” He gestured to the door, which clarified nothing.

Teldryn chuckled nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, because I like you? I find you attractive and interesting?” Teldryn shrugged. “I’d be happy to compose a formal list, if you’d prefer.”

Rels didn’t look amused or convinced, so Teldryn turned to the bar with a sigh and motioned the barkeep over. “I’d like to rent a room for the night, ser.”

With his tab paid and his room secured, Teldryn got to his feet. Rels hadn’t budged, still staring at him as if he had sprouted a second head. Teldryn stepped a little closer, emboldened when Rels didn’t move away. He reached up to clasp one of Rels’s shoulders, affecting a friendly smile.

“It’s up to you. Open invitation. But regardless, thank you for spending the evening with me. For the past three days, really. I… I’m really glad we met, Rels.” He gave his shoulder a light squeeze before turning to walk down the ramp into the lower belly of the cornerclub.

But Teldryn felt morose as he unlocked the door and pushed into his room. He tossed his bag onto one of the chairs and sat down on the bed to begin unlacing his boots. The silence of the room was crushing. He shouldn’t have offered. Once again, he let his dick think for him, ruining a perfectly good friendship—

A knock at the door.

Teldryn’s eyes snapped up. One boot unlaced, he got to his feet and strode quickly across the room. When he pulled open the door, Rels stared back at him, looking nervous and flushed. His eyes flickered down to Teldryn’s lips then back to his eyes. Teldryn just smiled, stepped forward, and kissed him.

It was soft — chaste — and Rels let out a shaky exhale, breath ghosting across Teldryn’s face. He tasted like greef. It took everything in Teldryn’s power to break away and step back, giving Rels the space to enter his room. Then Teldryn closed the door behind him and the levy broke. Rels was on him in an instant, pressing Teldryn against the door and finding his mouth again.

Teldryn smiled through the kiss, unable to help the moan that rumbled through his chest as Rels’s tongue slid between his lips. He pulled him closer, canted his hips upwards. It was good, it was _so good._ Rels was solid and warm and insistent. Teldryn smoothed his hands across Rels’s shoulders, down his arms, along his sides— slipped them beneath the hem of his shirt to glide across hot skin and firm muscle. Rels practically whimpered into his mouth, and _fuck_ , Teldryn had barely even touched him.

“Let’s get this off,” he suggested as he tugged at the edge of the shirt. Rels stepped back and quickly yanked the shirt over his head, pulling his hair loose in the process. Teldryn did the same before swiftly stepping forward to tangle one hand in Rels’s hair as the other wrapped around his back, pulling their chests together. Rels kissed with a steady kind of determination, like he was meticulously cataloging the experience. His hands ran up Teldryn’s back, between his shoulder blades, then back down. He worked his lips rhythmically against Teldryn’s, slow and methodical with the occasional swipe of his tongue.

Teldryn walked him backwards until his knees hit the bed and Rels faltered and fell back, bouncing against the mattress. He looked up at Teldryn, wide-eyed and breathless. Teldryn immediately pushed him onto his back, scooped his hands beneath Rels’s thighs, and hoisted him further onto the bed. Teldryn slid between his legs, slithering overtop his body like a predator.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured against Rels’s jaw, rolling his hip downward, slow and deliberate.

Rels let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes and tipping his head back to bare his throat. Teldryn rewarded his little sign of submission with featherlight kisses down the column of his neck, spreading a hand across his chest, teasing a nipple. This earned him another gasp and a quavering moan. Teldryn kept going, trailing kisses down the center of Rels’s chest, smoothing his hands across his ribs — down, down — pressing his lips to the soft of his stomach, nuzzling through the light trail of hair below his navel. He eagerly worked the buttons of Rels’s pants, curled his fingers around the hem, tugged as Rels lifted his hips.

His cock was thick and flushed dark, curving slightly to the left against his stomach. Teldryn licked his lips and looked up. Rels was watching him, his expression a mixture of awe and trepidation.

Teldryn thought it was only polite to ask. “Can I suck your cock?”

Rels’s cock twitched as if answering for him. He nodded. Teldryn pulled his pants the rest of the way down and promptly buried his nose in the crook of Rels’s hip, ran his tongue along the seam where his thigh met his groin. He let his lips brush across Rels’s sack as he moved to do the same to the other side, which pulled a stifled whimper from Rels’s lips.

“Don’t hold back,” Teldryn encouraged. “I want to hear you.”

He licked a long stripe up the underside of Rels’s cock before grabbing it by the base, angling it upwards to wrap his lips around the thick head. Rels let go then, moaning loudly and throwing his head back with his eyes screwed shut. His fingers immediately curled in Teldryn’s short crest of hair, nails scraping against his scalp. Teldryn hummed, sliding all the way down until his nose was buried in those soft, curling hairs and his throat was achingly full. He held still for a moment, adjusting, then pulled back with a wet slurp and a gasp before beginning to suck in earnest.

It was the kind of challenge that Teldryn enjoyed: a cock that made his jaw ache, that pushed far enough into his throat to cut off his breath. It was long and thick and hot against his tongue. Utterly delicious. Rels’s thighs were shaking, his breath coming in labored puffs. He tugged on Teldryn’s hair with a soft, pleading noise and Teldryn pulled off, giving the tip of his cock one final suck.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

Rels let out a keening whine.

“You’re going to have to use your words.” Teldryn laved his tongue along the underside of his cock. “It’s kind of my policy.”

“I… I’m…” Rels was panting and looked vaguely panicked.

Teldryn slid up the bed, dipping down to press a slow, steady kiss against Rels’s mouth. “Do you want me to fuck you?” Teldryn asked as he kissed along his jaw. “Do you want to fuck me?” Lips brushed the hollow beneath Rels’s ear. “Tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

He heard Rels swallow. “F-fuck me.” Fingernails scraped down Teldryn’s back. _“Fuck me,”_ he said again, with more gusto. Teldryn groaned and ground his hips down against Rels’s, suddenly furious that he still had his pants on.

He pushed off the bed and kicked his boots off the rest of the way before hastily unbuttoning and stepping out of his pants. He had something in his pack to ease the way, he was sure, but _of_ _course_ it was buried beneath three days worth of clothes and supplies.

Rels had also divested and resituated himself so that he was lying back against the pillows. He watched Teldryn’s every move with half-lidded eyes, his cock spit-slick and shiny against his stomach. Finally, Teldryn’s fingers closed around the little clay bottle and he grinned, yanking it from his bag and eagerly climbing back onto the bed.

“Under different circumstances, I’d be using my mouth,” Teldryn explained with a smirk as he scooped oil onto his fingers. “Fuck you open with my tongue...” He dipped his hand between Rels’s legs, sliding the slick pad of his middle finger over his hole. “Eat you out nice and slow.”

Rels sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body going tense. Teldryn stopped.

“You… _have_ done this before, haven’t you?”

Rels cracked his eyes open but his brows remained drawn, tight. “Not… I haven’t received… if that’s what you mean.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.” Teldryn pulled his hand away and Rels relaxed. “Why’d you ask for it then?”

“I don’t know…”

 _Merciful Meris…_ Teldryn took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

“Whatever you’d like to do is fine,” Rels tried, but Teldryn was shaking his head before he’d even finished the sentence.

“It’s not about what _I’d_ _like_ to do.” He reached out and took Rels’s cock into his hand and stroked him a few times with a loose fist. He’d gone slightly soft. “It’s about what _you’re_ comfortable with. What makes you feel good.” Rels sucked in a breath through his teeth as his eyes fluttered closed, hips rolling up into Teldryn’s hand. He was immediately rock hard again.

“It felt good,” he admitted quietly. “What you were doing.”

“Want to just take it slow?” Teldryn continued to pump his cock.

Rels nodded and Teldryn couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss him, stroking him slow and steady. His other hand wandered back to where it’d been, sliding along the cleft of his ass, fingertip circling the heat he found there. Rels clenched and Teldryn softly shushed him, kissing him deeper.

It had been a while since he’d debauched a virgin. Well, ‘ _virgin’,_ so to speak. It was obvious that Rels had at least _some_ experience under his belt. But still… To slowly work him open, feel him relax, surrender... To have him run his hands through Teldryn’s hair, along his back, hold him closer. To pull all the small, reverent little noises from his mouth, hear his breath catch in his chest and feel his cock throb in Teldryn’s hand every time he pushed a little further. And to have it be _Rels_? It was an honor.

With two fingers knuckle-deep, Rels was beginning to squirm, his kisses becoming more robust, demanding. Teldryn rocked his hips against the back of Rels’s thigh in time with his hand as he slowly thrust in and out, in and out. A third fingertip and Rels gasped. Nails dug into Teldryn’s skin.

“Too much?”

“No.” Rels kissed the corner of his mouth sloppily. “No, please… _more.”_

Once enough of the resistance was gone and Rels was close to begging, Teldryn pulled away to slick himself up. Rels was watching Teldryn with a quiet intensity. His wandering hands momentarily stilled as Teldryn pressed Rels’s knees closer to his chest, lined himself up and pushed in the tiniest bit. Rels’s eyes fluttered and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Easy,” Teldryn rumbled. “Stay relaxed, but let me know if something hurts.”

“It’s… a lot.”

“Want to stop?”

“No.”

Teldryn was in no rush. The anticipation made it all the sweeter — sinking in a hair’s breadth before stopping, letting him adjust. When the head of Teldryn’s cock popped past his last bit of resistance, he sank forward faster than he meant to and Rels yelped.

“Fuck, sorry! I’m sorry.”

“No! No, don’t, it’s— mm…” Rels bit his bottom lip and took a breath through his nose. He rolled his hips slightly and groaned. “It’s good.” He gripped Teldryn’s biceps a little tighter. “It’s good. I’m— keep going.”

Teldryn began to rock minutely, a gentle push and pull, sinking slightly deeper each time. Rels was already panting. A soft sheen of sweat coated his forehead, his cheeks and ears flushed dark. When his hips finally connected with Rels’s ass, Teldryn let out a long groan, shoulders slumping. Rels pulled him down with almost frenzied desperation, unable to lean up far with his knees hooked in the crooks of Teldryn’s arms. He kissed him hard, rolling Teldryn’s lower lip between his teeth. Teldryn pulled out halfway, then pushed back in. They moaned into each other’s mouths.

He set an easy rhythm, slow and steady. Rels held Teldryn’s face close, thumbs brushing across the top of Teldryn’s cheekbones, a low, soft groan slipping between his lips with every thrust. It was startlingly intimate, and as much as Teldryn wanted to explain it away with the fact that it should _always_ be slow and tender for someone’s first time, there was an unspoken tension between them: something feverish that roiled just beneath the surface. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying.

And when Teldryn opened his eyes and Rels was looking at him, it was almost too much. He buried his face against Rels’s neck, pressing kiss after kiss against his damp skin. Rels was hot and tight and felt so good. Teldryn told him as much — murmured it into his ear — sweet nothings that turned into filthy declarations as his hips began to rut harder, snap forward with more punch. Rels became more vocal, huffing into Teldryn’s ear, grunting, clinging harder.

“Touch yourself,” Teldryn rasped, his pace speeding up even more. “I want to see—” He groaned “—want to see what you look like. When you come.”

Rels sucked in a breath, snaking a hand between them to tug at his own cock. He let out a long, quavering moan and Teldryn swallowed it down, pressing his tongue into Rels’s mouth, pounding into him with newfound frenzy.

His own climax rushed towards the surface, pushing higher, climbing the walls. His senses narrowed to the tight heat around his cock and their slick slide of sweat-soaked skin as he drove forward. Rels had one hand fisting Teldryn’s hair; the other’s knuckles dug into Teldryn’s stomach as he jerked himself with mounting desperation.

Then, without warning, Rels threw his head back, every muscle going stiff as he came with a loud groan through clenched teeth— it might even have been a scream. His entire body tensed, clamping down around Teldryn, and Teldryn’s hips stuttered as his own orgasm exploded outwards, hot gush after gush. He curled his hips helplessly as he gasped, the pleasure nearly ripping him in two. Rels let out a noise that sounded far too close to a sob for Teldryn’s liking, though he was still pumping himself through his climax.

Their motions slowed, then stilled, both left panting raggedly against each other. Teldryn unhooked his arm from Rels’s knee to push some hair out of his face and place a lingering kiss on his temple. Rels’s inhale was watery, quavering.

A part of him wanted not to move — to stay suspended like this, joined. That would, unfortunately, become very uncomfortable, very soon. Mustering his strength, Teldryn drew back and slowly pulled out. Rels made a concerned sound and lifted his head.

“You’re fine,” Teldryn insisted. “I promise.”

Rels let out a breathy, shuddering laugh, relaxing his neck again. “It just felt like…”

“I know. Believe me.” He grinned and leaned down to place another kiss on Rels’s cheek. “I’d let you know if you shit the bed.”

“What the _fuck_ , Teldryn!?” Rels threw his head back and laughed loudly. It was the first full, unreserved laugh Teldryn had ever heard from him, and it was _glorious_. Teldryn couldn’t help but join in, pressing his smile to Rels’s shoulder as his sides shook. His entire body was alight, buzzing, and laughing only took him higher.

“Stay there,” he said once they’d calmed down. He pressed another kiss to Rels’s face. “I’m gonna clean us up.” Teldryn slid from the bed and fished through his pack for an old shirt. He quickly wiped himself off before tending to Rels, cleaning spend from his stomach and between his legs. “We made a mess,” Teldryn mused.

“Yeah…” Rels wore a dopey look, a small smile never leaving his face as Teldryn tossed the shirt into a corner and slid back onto the bed. Rels pulled him down for a kiss, his mouth soft and relaxed. He was radiating contentment and Teldryn smiled against his lips, ran a hand down his side in long, soothing strokes. Rels pulled away, letting his head fall back against the pillow with a sigh, eyes fluttering closed.

“Good experience?” Teldryn couldn’t help but ask.

Rels let out a breathy laugh and opened his eyes, turning to look at him. “Yeah, that was alright.”

“Alright!?” Teldryn looped an arm around Rels’s waist, yanking him across the bed. Rels yelped and burst into laughter again. “Alright!?” Teldryn repeated, nuzzling into the crook of Rels’s neck to make him laugh harder. “Alright, he says… I can’t believe it.”

Teldryn kissed him once more then sighed and rolled onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes dramatically. “I suppose there’s always room for improvement.”

He peeked out from beneath it to see Rels grinning at him. He looked _decades_ younger when he smiled, the deep creases between his brows softening. Teldryn thought back to the cave, to the glimpse of the boy he saw buried beneath the years of trauma and guilt. He brushed more hair out of Rels’s face, tracing the edge of the scar that cut across his cheek.

“I’ll do even better next time.”

The smile slid from Rels’s face, replaced immediately by doubt— wariness.

“If you’d like there to be one, that is,” Teldryn added. “A next-time.”

He saw Rels swallow.

Then, slowly, a tentative smile returned to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you banjotea for letting me borrow Rels for a WHOLE ASS STORY. I didn't mean to... and yet here we are. And it looks like this might not be the last time I write about him.... o___o
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who's commented/messaged me along the way! The support I get means so, so much to me, especially in such a small, close-knit fandom. I love you all. The world is crazy right now and I'm happy to provide a little escape. 
> 
> Finally, [peep](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/657703007210700810/710969188700651631/image0.png) [some](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/657703007210700810/711404311401201694/image0.png) [fanart](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/605610821359370242/711721988225499246/image0.png) that I made as I was writing! 
> 
> As always, all my love~ 
> 
> Topsy

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious about Rels and his story, definitely check out banjotea's fic [Honorbound.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23037733/chapters/55092904) He just started posting the sequel as well, (aaaaand there's also a sexy AU with a gratuitous amount of Eno Hlaalu love).


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